


Teach Me Helpless

by Plouton



Category: Bleach
Genre: Cock Warming, Conditioning, Extremely Dubious Consent, Face Slapping, Humiliation, Hypnosis, M/M, Mindfuck, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22079047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plouton/pseuds/Plouton
Summary: Some lessons took a bit more time to sink in. Luckily for Grimmjow, Aizen-sama was more than willing to spare the time to teach them.
Relationships: Aizen Sousuke/Grimmjow Jaegerjaques
Comments: 4
Kudos: 143





	Teach Me Helpless

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, my incredibly talented and evil genius of a co-author, Acjkpop, contributed massively to this fic, so please check her out at: smorgasbordofobsessions.tumblr.com.

Grimmjow stood silently in the doorway, hands shoved deep into his pockets and back curled slightly into a slouch: a poor attempt at making himself seem smaller and subsequently less noticeable. Nervous energy translated into the slightest of rocking, weight moving from foot to foot, prepared to bolt at the first sign of physical violence.

Grimmjow usually wasn’t one to run from a fight. Too stubborn and too hot-headed to entertain the idea of fleeing with his tail between his legs, but he wasn’t an idiot either. Crossing swords with the man seated before him would lead to certain pain and humiliation. Grimmjow learned that lesson the hard way. Many times.

So now he followed instructions and waited.

Aizen would address him at his own leisure.

There was not much else to do other than to watch and think. And Grimmjow has already taken stock of Aizen’s personal study on multiple occasions. Beyond the large desk situated in the middle of the room, the two thin, tall windows on the left side, and the heavy double doors on the other side where the Hogyoku is sealed, there is pitifully little to see. Bland white walls and a sliver of desert sky. 

Grimmjow took the time to reflect on what could have resulted in his summoning today. It was… actually quite common that Grimmjow ended up in Aizen’s personal space. Ever since the early days, when Grimmjow first uncurled from the painfully small foetal position he had assumed as the Hogyoku ripped him apart, Shawlong shaking like a leaf behind him, wearing new skin and revealing a new face. Aizen had smiled, kind and slow. Thin fingers had curved carefully, possessively, around his jaw and tilted his head back. 

Maybe it was the onrush of endorphins: dopamine and oxytocin and all those other dangerous pleasure hormones that always follow a hollows survival - an ingrained biological response Shawlong had explained to him years ago. Maybe it was sheer exhaustion or it was the sudden burgeoning of emotions under his breast he hadn’t felt since he was human. Grimmjow didn’t know. But he let his head fall back and bared his throat, submissive and docile before the stronger man, and ignored the surprised murmurs from his pack. The shinigami smiled, pressed a thumb feather soft against his hammering pulse and Grimmjow wanted to lean into the touch, as if a Shinigami could ever mean _safety_. 

“You have such pretty eyes, my little hollow,” Aizen all but purred, nails dragging over his cheek across the sensitive juncture where his mask met his face (his face! He had one of those! A human one!), “just like I thought they’d be.” 

“Oh,” Grimmjow rather unintelligently breathed back, eyes wide in wonder, looking up at his creator. A compliment. Hollows don’t _do_ compliments. Grimmjow can’t even remember the last compliment he’s received _ever._ He’d ask Shawlong later what his eyes look like. 

He let Aizen guide him to his feet (only two of them!) and when his balance wavered, flat feet sliding in the sand, the shinigami caught him effortlessly. His hands were an immovable warmth against Grimmjow’s bare forpaws - arms. The man chuckled, low and deep, so obviously pleased that Grimmjow couldn’t help the small quirk of his own lips, head lowered bashfully. 

Later that week, when he and his pack had all found their feet - literally, learning to walk on two legs was a bitch and a half and lead to a surprising amount of collateral damage, now that he thought back on it - Aizen summoned him. 

There was a pattern, Grimmjow realized, watching Aizen’s face as the man worked on some irrelevant thing or another, just so he could pretend to keep Grimmjow waiting. Grimmjow or one of his would step out of line and Aizen would summon him to reprimand him personally. He didn’t often deign himself to deal punishment out. Gin or Tousen were usually sufficient. Grimmjow was the exception.

So what exactly had he done? 

Ah. 

He knew. 

He mouthed off today in that meeting didn’t he. Shared unnecessary opinions when Aizen was updating the Espada. Ignoring Aizen’s order to keep his mouth shut unless spoken to. He never contradicted Aizen, but fuck were the meetings boring; he didn’t think there was anything wrong with adding a little colour. He wasn’t thinking about the consequences.

“Grimmjow,” Aizen finally addressed him, though he didn't look up from his papers, opting to simply gesture in front of him with the end of his calligraphy brush. His voice was flat. Aizen was not pleased. 

Grimmjow hunched further into himself but stalked to the front of the desk without complaint, lips pressed together into a thin scowl, the tip of his tongue caught under an incisor. He paused in front of the shinigami: feet planted firmly, muscles tensed, face carefully blank. They’ve done this dance before.

Aizen leaned back in his chair and watched him, features impassive. “That isn’t where I pointed, Grimmjow. Is even the simplest of instructions beyond you today?” 

A furrow appeared between the arrancar’s blue brows, lips tugging further down. He had moved in front of Aizen. What more could he do? His eyes flickering from Aizen’s face to the brush, following along the angle of the bristles. He felt his shoulders rise. 

The brush was pointing forward, but Aizen was correct. Rather than pointing at the floor space in front of the desk like Grimmjow had assumed, it was pointing _at_ the desk. 

“You... want me to sit on your desk?” Grimmjow asked, confusion colouring his tone.

It was the was the wrong thing to say. 

Reiastu rushed over him, a great crescendoing wave of power and absolute control, a near electric pressure that simultaneously pulled all the strength from his legs and caused every muscle in his back to seize. He dropped to his knees in the space between breaths, diaphragm spasming under the overwhelming pressure, nonfunctional muscles contracting painfully.

He heard Aizen speaking through the ringing in his ears, “I did not grant you permission to speak.” 

The pressure abated and Grimmjow slumped forward, lungs filling abruptly and sweaty palms finding his knees. Twitchy fingers dug into the thick starchy fabric in an attempt at grounding himself. He didn’t dare move to stand.

“Why must you make me do this to you, Grimmjow?” The shinigami spoke, genuine disappointment curdling his voice. 

Grimmjow flushed, the tips of his ears heating, feeling not unlike a chastened child. He worried his tongue between his teeth, biting down on the explanation he wanted to provide. This meeting was about permission, and Aizen hadn’t specified he could apologise or explain yet, so his gaze remained on the white tiles and his mouth remained shut.

“I gave you one direction: Do not speak unless requested to. Is that too much to ask?” 

Grimmjow gritted his teeth, eyes narrowing as the silence dragged out.

“Answer me, Grimmjow,” Aizen finally granted. 

“No,” Grimmjow murmured, blue eyes flickering up to assess his creator, quick enough that he hoped he wouldn’t be punished. The disappointment in Aizen’s deep brown eyes sent a hot flush of shame through his chest and he dropped his eyes again, head bowed. 

Aizen watched his espada for a minute. Long fingers absently spun the brush in one hand, while the other tapped at Kyoka Suigetsu’s pommel. He had released his shikai before Grimmjow had entered the room and forced the arrancar under his influence the moment the door opened. Nothing obvious of course. It wouldn’t do to give the game away so soon, but just enough of a subliminal message in the range just below what Grimmjow could hear to have him shifting into his more well behaved alter ego. 

It had been months since Aizen originally started grooming the arrancar and already the conditioning was starting to take root. He was significantly more docile in private, quicker to follow orders and slower to letting his humiliation hold him back. More eager to slip into the headspace Aizen was carving out of him. 

Aizen was a man fixated on the long game; he played it well, though entertaining himself throughout was of paramount importance, lest he grew impatient and act irrationally. While in Soul Society, he amused himself by dismantling Momo Hinamori. Piece by piece, he pulled her apart, destroyed her beliefs, and rebuilt her with him as her God. He fabricated her a personality out of obedience and blind adoration. But alas, she had outlived her usefulness and he would find no more pleasure in playing with a broken toy. He discarded her before leaving for Heuco Mundo.

A new location required a new toy, however, and he found one in the second arrancar he made. Grimmjow was the obvious choice. 

Grimmjow reminded him of her. They were equally eager for praise, susceptible and malleable. Though, Aizen could admit, that's where the similarities ended. Where Momo was tractable and deferential, Grimmjow was not. Vivacious, obstinate, and insatiable, Aizen would love nothing more then to make the arrancar fall apart under his hands. 

Momo was nearly too easy. Where she only required a few encouraging words and a display of faux loyalty, Grimmjow required a firmer hand. 

He valued strength. Harsh corrections followed, rather interestingly, by kind words were the trick to domesticating the hollow. This was something Aizen discovered rather early in their relationship. 

Momo was a nonviable template. The first, and only, time Aizen graced a kind word to Grimmjow outside of his sessions, he was met with tense suspicion and ridicule. For hollows, kindness was a sign of weakness. That was a belief Aizen could not tolerate and it required immediate correction. Though violence was usually not Aizen’s prefered method, it was the only language Grimmjow understood. Hollows truly were savages.

The beating was public and humiliating, but Aizen couldn’t have Grimmjow think he disliked him. No, he needed subjects loyal enough to die for him. So Aizen carried him to a bed, and healed his wounds, and offered kind words. And when his espada again argued back, he forced him to the floor with nothing but reiatsu and stuck his cock down the kitten’s throat. There are better uses for that mouth after all. Patronising praise fell from his lips when Grimmjow hardly protested. Nervous blue eyes glittered up at him, a pleased blush blooming high across his cheeks, and Aizen realized. Filthy little cat had a praise kink. How _quaint_. For all his posturing, Grimmjow liked to be pet just as much as a regular house cat. 

Things were going as he planned. He was aiming for full subservience, though even verbal orders seemed largely beyond the mouthy brat without Kyoka Suigetsu’s influence to keep him subdued. Ideally, Grimmjow would learn to anticipate Aizen’s wants and needs, even as he pushed himself into a spiral of self destruction as his mental capacity slowly tarnished under Aizen’s careful cultivation. As it were, however, the arrancar was a rather slow study. Pitiful, really, if Aizen didn’t delight so much in punishing his favorite toy. 

Really. It never failed to entertain. 

Aizen surveyed his pet, scrutinizing him for any additional flaws. 

Grimmjow was positioned correctly. Kneeling with his hands on his knees, thighs spread, head bowed, and most importantly, mouth shut. Nearly perfect. Aizen tapped at his sword again, the subliminal message changing tone. If only his pet would remember to-- ah-- there he goes. 

Grimmjow’s fingers relaxed enough for the heavy fabric of his hakama to drop from his grip. His hands twisted until they were palm up, where he fought to keep them from closing. It was the remainder of a nervous tick Aizen had thought he had trained out of him. No matter. His kneeling was satisfactory. There were more important lessons to be retaught tonight if Grimmjow’s little outburst during the meeting today was any indication. 

“For the remainder of your punishment, you will not speak except to say ‘Yes, Aizen-sama’ unless otherwise requested, do you understand?”

Grimmjow’s gaze remained downcast, though the tendon in his jaw jumped when he clenched his teeth tighter together. 

There was still some fight in there yet to be crushed. Good. He would be boring otherwise - that was, after all why Aizen chose him over the others. He wanted to see just how far he could bend the headstrong arrancar before he would _break_.

“Yes, Aizen-sama,” Grimmjow said anyway.

“Good hollow.” 

Aizen ignored the pleased shiver that ran through Grimmjow’s frame and fell silent again to return to his work. He would let Grimmjow marinate in his uncertainty on how today’s session would go. This was always the part that took the longest: minutes could trickle into an hour while Grimmjow mentally anguished over his competing desire of wanting to run or wanting to succumb, and whether doing so was because he had to or because he _wanted_ to. 

Minutes passed. Grimmjow remained motionless, slowly relaxing as he came to the conclusion that Aizen would keep him waiting, would keep him kneeling until he could be useful again. He was tempted to tell Aizen to go fuck himself and just walk out. But his pride kept him where he was, kept him silent, wouldn’t let him question Aizen as to when he could be bestowed his attention once more. 

Grimmjow’s hands were finally still, bared in their uncurled position.

Aizen’s lips quirked in satisfaction. “Let’s try this again, shall we?” 

Grimmjow’s shoulders tensed minutely. 

“Stand up.”

Grimmjow stood easily, though when he looked up, Aizen could still see his defiance.

Aizen gestured at the desk again with the tip of his brush. “Do you see where I’m pointing, Grimmjow?”

Grimmjow’s face pinched in confusion, recalling Aizen’s earlier response when he asked. Aizen hadn’t given him permission to say ‘No, Aizen-sama’, so he stayed silent, blue eyes darting between the desk and the brush. Realization was slow to dawn on him, but once it did, his confused expression was quick to morph into one of embarrassment. “Yes, Aizen-sama.”

He couldn’t meet Aizen’s gaze.

Aizen quirked a brow. “Then move.” He followed the order with the slightest brush from Kyoka Suigetsu. Grimmjow didn’t need to see the edges of the room nor did he need to hear the arrancar making a ruckus beyond the windows. His attention was best hyper focused on the task he was soon to be handed. 

Grimmjow grimaced, mind leaping through all the equally unpleasant possibilities an order like that could lead to. He moved anyway, experience having taught him that going against Aizen when he’s like this wasn’t the best idea. 

Cautiously, he walked around the desk, sparing a moment of hesitation as he neared Aizen’s side, blue eyes anxiously scanning Aizen’s form - he notices the impatient tapping of Aizen’s fingers against his sword, the tight press of Aizen’s thin lips, the cool, calculating look in his brown gaze - and determines that resistance will be met only with violence. For all the kindness Aizen projects, Grimmjow understood incredibly intimately, more so than any of the other Espada, how unforgivingly ruthless and sadistic the man can be. He has taken Grimmjow apart more times than he could recall. He suspected Aizen has forced him to forget too, somehow. Grimmjow dropped silently to his knees and crawled under the desk. 

Aizen watched him situate himself between his knees and waited until he replicated the position he was in just moments before.

It immediately felt worse, an already subservient position made even more so because Grimmjow was enclosed by the desk and Aizen. The attention was near overwhelming.

His flush, the near constant burning in his cheeks, darkened. Embarrassment flowed thick through his veins. Why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut when he was told? Why didn’t he just listen during the meetings? If it would save him _this_ he would have behaved himself. But he didn’t. He could bare the punishment and face the consequences of his disobedience.

He kept his head bowed, the vulnerable back of his neck clearly on display for Aizen-sama to reach out and snap if he wanted. 

He flinched when he heard Aizen place the brush on the table above him. It sounded like a cannon to his sensitive ears in the near vacuum silence this room always held. 

A large hand closed over the back of his neck. Firm, but not threatening.

Grimmjow tensed further anyway, open palms curling to claws then fists upon his thighs. It’s warm under the desk, even with his mostly bared torso. 

“Are you comfortable, Grimmjow?” 

Not at all. It’s so warm. How much room has he got? He shifts, just enough to push a toe against the back wall of the desk. Not enough. Aizen has him well and truly trapped. Why did he crawl in here so easily? Stupid. Should have fought. Hurting felt better then helpless. “Yes, Aizen-sama,” he panted out, mouth watering in an attempt to cool off. 

He’s panting already? He definitely didn’t feel this hot a minute ago. Claustrophobia? 

The hand at the back of his neck seemed cool in comparison. 

He curled forwards to give Aizen more space to flatten his palm. It would feel real nice if he did. 

Aizen watched Grimmjow fight down the rising tide of his panic. His disorientation palpable in his rising heart rate under Aizen's fingers as he started to notice the inconsistencies in his perception - courtesy of Kyoka Suigetsu. Where he couldn’t ground himself by clutching at his knees like he had earlier, he instead arched into Aizen's grip. Good. Dependence was to be encouraged. 

Aizen leaned back, propping his head on his free hand while the other held steady at Grimmjow’s neck, counting the jackrabbit pulse and observing. There was no rush today. This lesson was about patience and following directions. Grimmjow was a beautiful sight, framed between his spread legs like a good little pet. Though he couldn’t see the arrancars face, the tumultuous expressions likely flickering across his handsome features were certain to be amusing.

Gently, he tugged on the stands of blue hair at Grimmjow’s nape, guiding his head up. 

Grimmjow’s brows were furrowed. His pretty eyes lowered like he’s been taught. He was breathing quick and shallow, mouth agape - the natural response to Kyoka Suigetsu’s fabricated stimuli. Reduced to panting like a dog. 

“Look at me.” 

Grimmjow complied. 

“Untie my hakama.”

There was a brief pause where Grimmjow steeled himself, the slightest sneer settling on his face before he reached up to pull the ties open. He knew where this was going, and while it was far from the first time, that didn’t make it any less humiliating.

Aizen smirked. Naughty pet. 

The slap was sharp, quick but not hard, and it was surprise more than pain that caused Grimmjow’s head to turn under Aizen’s palm. 

His fingers froze against the hakama ties. Slowly Grimmjow turned back to face him, sneer replaced with wide blue eyes. Grimmjow was always so expressive, even when trying so hard to hide his feelings. He obediently met Aizen’s gaze. 

Aizen cupped his tanned cheek. It would take many more strikes before his skin reddened under his hierro. Though Aizen has had a time of beating his pet red and blue before, today was not the day for such violence. 

Sheer stubbornness kept the arrancar from tensing in expectation of another strike. 

Aizen sighed. “Do you know why I had to hit you?”

Grimmjow swallowed. “Yes, Aizen-sama.”

“Tell me, Grimmjow,” Aizen permitted, the pad of his thumb rubbing a soothing line under a blue eye. 

“Because I looked away from you.” His fingers flexed in the fabric of Aizen's belt. 

Aizen flexed his reiatsu, an electrical touch of dissatisfaction. 

“— Aizen-sama,” Grimmjow hastily tacked on. 

“I would have thought you rather familiar with how to remove my belt. Looking shouldn’t be required.” Aizen watched him for a long moment, forcing the arrancar to hold his gaze until Grimmjow either squirmed or disobeyed again and looked away. 

It was another amusing residual quirk from Grimmjow’s days as a feline hollow. Cats perceive eye contact as a display of dominance. It was a threat: forcing Gimmjow to maintain eye contact while simultaneously demanding submission was causing some very distressing signals to fire in the little hollows head. 

Finally, Grimmjow couldn’t tolerate it any longer. He looked down, head following as he offered the back of his neck again in silent apology. 

Aizen sighed again, a sound of regret. His hand slid from Grimmjow’s cheek to his chin, lifting so Grimmjow’s face was exposed. 

The arrancar kept his eyes downcast. Loathing hidden under thick lashes. 

Aizen thought it almost cute. No matter. All of that rage would be whittled away in due time. “Why must you disobey me?” 

Grimmjow stayed appropriately silent. 

“You know I’ll have to hit you again.”

“Yes, Aizen-sama,” Grimmjow said, resignation evident in the set of his features. 

“Why, Grimmjow, must I hit you?” Aizen prompted.

Grimmjow knew what answer he wanted to hear. “Because I disobeyed, Aizen-sama.” The words felt like swallowing glass. Molten derision on his tongue.

Grimmjow wanted to fight, scream and swear. He wanted to blast the stupid desk away and destroy everything he could touch. 

Aizen struck. Faster and harder than the first time. 

Stars exploded behind Grimmjow’s eyelids and a hand left the hakama ties to catch himself against Aizen’s knee. 

“Didn’t I tell you to only say ‘Yes, Aizen-sama’?”

Grimmjow blinked the spots from his vision and straightened to brace for another hit. “Yes, Aizen-sama.”

“Such a glutton for punishment. Don’t worry, I won’t hit you again. Your mouth seems to be getting you in trouble, so I have found a better use for it.” Aizen carded his fingers through Grimmjow’s hair before pulling harshly, yanking the arrancar forward and forcing him to resettle much closer to Aizen then he was before. “You should thank me, Grimmjow.”

“Thank you, Aizen-sama,” Grimmjow intoned. The effect was almost immediate. His eyes rolled and he listed bonelessly to the side, held upright only by Aizen’s grip in his hair. 

Aizen spared a condescending twist of the lips, even though he knew Grimmjow would regain some control of himself in a few short minutes, he was reacting more and more viscerally. “Such a good pet. Sit up.”

Grimmjow readjusted, slowly at first, like he couldn’t recall exactly how to maneuver his body, before the initial rush of his submission wore off and he was left confused and recentered. 

Aizen released his hair. “Undo my hakama.”

Grimmjow, with a mere second of hesitation, returned to the task he was originally assigned, gently tugging the ties loose and folding the fabric back near reverently. He stopped, awaiting the next order. 

“Take me out. Then put your hands back on your knees.”

Aizen watched Grimmjow move to complete the action and tightened Kyoka Suigetsu’s control. 

Grimmjow’s world narrowed, even as he recovered from that weird fainting spell. The large looming doors behind Aizen’s throne became irrelevant, fading into the background, not nearly so important as Aizen’s cock in his hands. It was thick and hot, and he opened his mouth to breath in Aizen’s smell. Not even hard and already so big, and his mouth was watering. 

Grimmjow swallowed, hands dropping back to his knees as instructed. 

Aizen smiled and carefully threaded a hand back though Grimmjow’s hair, nails scratching lightly at the sensitive point behind his ear. Grimmjow followed the movement, head lolling back slightly and lips parting.

“Would you like me to let you suck me off?” Aizen asked. It was important that Grimmjow be the one to make the request. 

“Yes, Aizen-sama,” he breathed, and then opened his mouth before Aizen could order him too. His jaw slack. Open and willing, eager despite his attitude.

“So demanding,” Aizen sighed in mock exasperation, “but I suppose I can indulge you.” Aizen fed the open mouth his cock, adjusting his pet by the hair until he was situated correctly. “Don’t swallow. Don’t suck. Keep your tongue still and your pretty mouth soft for me.”

Grimmjow shuddered at the words - his _pretty_ mouth - before he processed the rest of the order. Aizen just wanted him to hold his dick in his mouth? He’s never had to wait before.

Aizen watched quietly, face blank and eyes pinned on Grimmjow’s face, waiting for the first sign of rebellion. Grimmjow felt the saliva collecting at the corners of his stretched lips, and slowly dribbled out of his mouth and down Aizen’s shaft. The slick dampened his chin and Aizen’s hakama. He would have swallowed, but Aizen-sama told him he wasn’t allowed, and he didn’t want to disobey while he’s being punished.

Aizen smiled, pleased, when Grimmjow accepted the order without protest. He was content to leave Grimmjow where he was, mouth occupied and quiet. What a useful little tool he could be.

“I want you to remember this the next time I tell you that you can only speak when spoken to. Don’t you see? You don’t have anything important to say.” 

Grimmjow tensed under Aizen’s fingers, eyes flying open to glare up at the man. When had he closed his eyes? He blinked, confused for a moment, tongue fluttering against the satisfying weight in his mouth. Why was he worried about his eyes? Something was… slipping… That wasn’t important. Aizen-sama was important, and was still speaking. 

“You’re always supposed to be this quiet. You must always obey me. You understand?” A pause. “Answer me.”

Grimmjow shook himself slightly, toes curling to force sensation back through his body. He was so hot before, now he can hardly feel anything except for the cock on his tongue. He glanced up at Aizen and made to pull off and answer. He caught himself just in time, moments before he violated another order.

Grimmjow closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose. He tried to be as articulate as he could, over enunciating so that Aizen could hear his response, “Yes, Aizen-sama”. It came out muffled and wet and completely unintelligible. 

Aizen rewarded him anyway with another soft stroke through his hair. Acknowledgment for passing Aizen’s test, and Grimmjow preened at the attention and felt himself settle. His humiliation was buried under the glowing pride of earning Aizen-sama’s praise. After all. It was true. Grimmjow didn’t…. Didn’t have anything important to say. Did he? No he… This was why he needed Aizen-sama.

“Good little hollow. Now stay still and quiet while I finish my work. I’ll deal with you after.”

Aizen picked up his brush and redirected his attention back to his work. It was all a guise, of course. There was no reason for him to feign anything, but he needed to let Kyouka Suigetsu’s subtle influence work its way more thoroughly into Grimmjow’s subconscious.

Already Aizen could tell he was teetering on the cusp, lashes fluttering deliciously as his breathing slowed and he sagged, mouth soft and pliant around Aizen’s cock like the pretty little fucktoy he was made to be, before some semblance of shame or pride reared its head. He was resisting as best as he could despite the futility of the situation. Aizen was patient, however, and Grimmjow was running out of time and willpower.

Grimmjow stayed kneeling, drooling, eyes closed and tongue pressed flat against Aizen-sama’s dick. The desk kept him in place, trapped, with nothing to focus on except for Aizen.

Aizen was everywhere, ubiquitous and pervasive. He clogged all of Grimmjow’s senses, demanded his attention. He was everything. All he could smell and feel. The electric touch of his reiatsu settled over Grimmjow’s skin. The bitter taste on his tongue. He inhaled the strong, musky scent, mouth flooding with his desire. Grimmjow felt almost hyper-aware of where he was and what he was doing. 

He didn’t know why he felt so conflicted. This was normal. He… He deserved to be punished when he disobeyed. And… Aizen-sama was… he was kind enough to discipline him so that he could be better. He could… They… 

Grimmjow started, couldn’t get his eyes to focus, felt his head roll forwards a little and blinked hard. Ohhh. His head felt weird. Felt like… like… what was he thinking about?

Right. He was thinking how kind Aizen-sama was to punish him. Aizen-sama always walked him through what he did wrong and told him exactly what stupid mistake he made. Oh… He was always such a disappointment to Aizen-sama. But Aizen-sama was so compassionate and altruistic. He would always find the time to reprimanded Grimmjow with either a beating or brutal sex, sometimes both. It was always best when it was both. Aizen-sama told him so. And Aizen-sama was always right. He knew what was best for Grimmjow. 

His punishments had never been this… soft or drawn out before and it was confusing.

Grimmjow shuddered, eyelids drooping and head lolling precariously to the side before he snapped himself back to attention, stiffening as he realized he had broken a rule and moved. 

Aizen, kindly, ignored his transgression. 

For a moment the fog lifted. Grimmjow needed to _focus_ before he got himself into more trouble. Before Aizen found an excuse to make him bleed.

Grimmjow’s senses went into overdrive. He could hear the slight rasping of the brush as it moved on paper, swore he could tell when Aizen dipped it into the ink pot. He was aware of the blood in his veins, the tension in his thighs, the excess drool wetting his chin. His hakama felt harsh against the back of his hands and his legs, the normally comfortable material was sandpaper rough and sticking uncomfortably. His breathing was loud, echoing in his ears, each inhalation getting louder and needier.

Aizen let his fingers tease across the back of Grimmjow’s neck, twirling gently against the baby fine hair at his nape. Grimmjow was so close, he just needed a little push, just a touch. He squeezed the back of the arrancars neck firmly and Grimmjow’s eyes rolled.

His vision blackening for a moment before he lost the capacity to focus on anything beyond Aizen’s heavy cock on his tongue. It… was still soft? Why? Grimmjow was supposed to… no he was told not to suck, just to sit. But he wanted Aizen-sama to cum down his throat. Wanted Aizen-sama to get hard so that he could skullfuck him like he deserved. He wanted to press his head all the way down like Aizen-sama taught him, relax his throat and take it like a good pet. But he wasn’t _allowed_ to.

More saliva pooled on Aizen-sama’s crotch, Grimmjow thought that it made him look eager and overexcited. 

The sudden heat in his cheeks startled him. Why was he so willing to have a dick in his mouth? He… He was the sexta for fuck’s sake. He was on his way to becoming a king, _the_ king. He was getting stronger everyday. Yeah, he knew that he argued back sometimes but that didn’t mean he should be put in such a humiliating position, on his knees begging for Aizen’s cock like-- like some _whore_. 

He wasn’t a whore. 

He… He wasn’t…

Aizen didn’t pass him around to the other arrancar, just kept him to himself. He wasn’t a whore... He was _Aizen’s._ Only Aizen-sama’s. Wasn’t it nice of Aizen-sama to keep him to himself? He would be good for Aizen-sama. He… He could follow Aizen-sama’s orders. He could prove that he was worth the time, worth the investment.

He _wanted_ to be here, at his master’s feet, with his mouth stuffed deliciously full. This... This was where he belonged. He… wanted, wanted Aizen to _want_ him, and use him, and abuse him. This was… this was all he was worth. Aizen-sama told him so. Told him… that… He told him that he was just something to be masturbated with then put away for future use. Told him this was all he’d ever be good for. Aizen-sama could… He… 

Grimmjow choked. This wasn’t right. These weren’t his thoughts! Where.. Where did they come from, why.. No. Fuck that. He was mad. He was so fucking _pissed_ _off_ that Aizen has him on his knees under the table like part of the goddamned furniture. Who the fuck did this guy think he was?

Grimmjow was gonna… He was gonna... be…. What was he gonna be? No. It… It didn’t matter. 

What mattered was that he did _not_ want to be under the table here with Aizen’s... thick... _fat_... cock down his throat. Didn’t want to notice how it was slowly growing harder and bigger under his tongue - not that he was allowed to lick, but even when he’s being good he can’t hold himself entirely still. Didn’t want to notice how much fuller his mouth felt then when he started… when did he start?

How long had he been under the desk? A half hour? An hour? Longer? It was so easy to lose time when he was with Aizen-sama. Too easy to lose himself in Aizen-sama’s presence.

Grimmjow tongue teased over the large vein on the underside of Aizen-sama’s cock and hoped that’s not considered a violation. It was just that Aizen-sama felt so massive and heavy in his mouth, he couldn’t help but try to get a taste. Drool continuing to pool and soak into the white fabric of Aizen-sama’s pants. 

Hazily he wondered if this was all he was ever going to be good for. If maybe… this was why Aizen made him an arrancar. Just so he could be a wet human-shaped hole for Aizen-sama to use. Didn’t… Didn’t think he’d mind it. Aizen-sama was so considerate. Would be kinder if he allowed Grimmjow to blow him properly. If he could choke. Wanted to taste Aizen-sama cum down his tight throat. He looked away from his treat in front of his nose and traced up Aizen-sama’s body until he could watch the man through his eyelashes. 

Aizen was watching him back. He must have seen something he liked because he ran his hand through Grimmjow’s hair again and rubbed his fingers appreciatively against the sensitive pulse behind his ear and suddenly Grimmjow realized he was achingly, painfully, hard. _Fuck._

He was so turned on. He needed, he _wanted._ He couldn’t cum. Couldn’t touch himself with how heavy his hands were against his thighs. Couldn’t lift them to reach himself if he used every piece of strength in his body. He knew, deep in his hind-brain, that he wouldn’t be allowed to cum until his master did.

Aizen’s attention was not so consumed by his paperwork that he didn’t notice when Grimmjow finally fell into the trance. It was a slow induction, one that could likely be resisted if Grimmjow knew what was happening, but Aizen was always very careful to ensure his pet never remembered his triggers. So he sat patiently while Grimmjow slowly, slowly drifted. Aizen watched as his gaze lowered, eyelashes stilled and half-lidded over unfocused blue eyes. He waited until Grimmjow’s hands lay lax and open against his thighs, weighed down by his own contentment. He waited until Grimmjow’s breathing leveled out completely, an almost purr rolling through his throat on every exhale, and the crease between his brows smoothed as his facial features relaxed, tense muscles unwinding. Aizen briefly considered punishing him for the noise, but it was a reflexive behavior beyond the hollows control, and there were other things Aizen could hurt him for instead.

He looked vulnerable and unguarded like this. Aizen has wondered in the past how old Grimmjow was when he died. Surely no older than twenty-five, though the untroubled expression he wore in these moments made him think his pet was younger. Hollows never aged like spirits in the Soul Society did; they wore the same face under their masks as the had the moment they died. It would read as tragic, to know this was the face of a young man who likely died terrified and abandoned, if hollows were anything more than monsters. 

“Such a good job, my little cockwarmer,” Aizen praised. A hand carded through blue hair. “Suck. Let me hear those pretty sounds you make.”

Grimmjow’s face lit up at his reward and briefly wondered if Aizen-sama could read his mind or if his need was too obviously displayed on his face. The thought fell away just as quickly. He swallowed around the girth in his mouth, so relieved at finally receiving the order he moaned.

Aizen smirked, relishing in the pathetic gagging noises Grimmjow made against his cock as it hardened. Without warning he forced Grimmjow’s head down just to hear that sticky, wet sound Grimmjow’s throat always made when it convulsed around his dick. It was one of the few sounds he genuinely enjoyed hearing from Grimmjow -- beyond the begging of course. The long slow slide of Grimmjow’s hot mouth against his member when he dragged him off again was delicious. It was one of the best mouths he’s ever fucked, of course, entirely thanks to his training. 

He used Grimmjow’s mouth. Roughly yanking him back and forth over his cock like the fucktoy he was. “You like this, don’t you.” It’s a statement, not a question, but Grimmjow nodded anyway, moaning in appreciation.

His pet relaxed into the brutal treatment, sucking and swallowing around him as blue eyes watched him in near adoration, completely unable to pull his attention away from Aizen, consumed by pleasing his creator. His pet was doing well, submitting beautifully. Completely willing to be on his knees all day in the service of his creator. 

His pet could do better though - could always do better. 

Aizen cooed a saccharine little lie just to see the look of glowing pride illuminated in Grimmjow’s eyes. Aizen’s love was Grimmjow’s God.

He smiled softly, cruelly, and then he stood. Grimmjow followed, a futile struggle to obey his orders. The alarm was clear in his eyes. This was a task designed to make him fail. His head hit the desk and Aizen's dick slipped free from his lips, leaving his hole open and empty.

Aizen’s placid smile lost its warmth.

Grimmjow’s eyes went wide, terror and desperation clear in every line of his face. He lurched forward, almost took his hands off his knees. “Aizen-sama, please-”

Aizen’s expression was glacial. “Please?” He sneered. “You’re not in a position to be making requests.” His hand shot out and grabbed at Grimmjow’s face harshly, fingers pressing into skin with bruising force. 

Grimmjow shuddered and a distressed wail escaped his lips, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “I-I’m s-s-sorry, I-I,” he lurched again. The trance broke.

Grimmjow stiffened like he’d been electrocuted, shoulders jumping up to his ears and eyes widening impossibly further, snapping up to realize Aizen was standing over him. Confusion and panic set off every warning alarm he has. _Wasn’t he in front of the desk? How did he- where did-_ the hand on his face smeared spit and precum and he jerked back, shoulder blades colliding with the front panel that fully enclosed the desk. He caught his lower lip between his teeth and bit down hard enough he could taste blood. It kept the sob trapped behind teeth. He brought his knees up to guard himself, the back of his hand pressed against his mouth.

Aizen watched for a long moment as the arrancar tried to pull his scattered thoughts back together. Slow, but Aizen supposed, Grimmjow was more an animal than a man. 

It was amusing to see his pet struggle to understand what was happening, to hear Grimmjow’s panicked breathing and small whines even though he tried to keep quiet. It would be even more amusing if he could see it. Kyouka Suigetsu’s influence worked wonders, but there was something about physically enforcing the hypnosis that pleased Aizen. Knowing that he had absolute control over his toy, that he alone, regardless of his toy’s personality, could be molded to Aizen’s exact specifications. It was _intoxicating_.

The hypnotic trance breaking was an unexpected consequence for the challenge he presented to Grimmjow, but that was no matter. Keeping his toy on edge was a good way to keep him dependent on his master, desperate for the praise it looked for even though he had to suffer to get it.

But this break had gone on long enough.

Aizen pulled him from under the table, with a hand around his pet’s ankle and soothing words in his mouth. Grimmjow didn’t fight, though he did scramble to his knees, likely to push himself to standing, before Aizen placed a firm hand in his hair and guided his head around. 

Grimmjow stared at him in shock, only just beginning to process Aizen’s calming words. Aizen made sure to present this version of himself to his pet, made sure to come off as slightly annoyed but not angry, especially while Grimmjow was still so willful. It wouldn’t do for his pet to think that he could be so bothered by disobedience - it might encourage him.

Aizen caressed his pet's jaw, and watched, pleased, when Grimmjow’s mouth fell open without prompting. The confused, but nonetheless, plaintive mewl that followed was less desirable. Aizen wanted his pet willing, would force him to be willing, but needy and whiny were only desirable when Aizen demanded them.

Grimmjow stiffened when he realized the noise was originating from his own mouth, and promptly bit down on any remaining vocalizations.

"Are you disobeying me, pet?" Aizen crooned, fingers teasing along Grimmjow’s jawline and edging across the underside of his mask.

“S-Stop,” Grimmjow stuttered, struggling against the hold. It was a weak effort. He clearly couldn't decide if he wanted to escape or lean into Aizen's soft touches.

“Stop?” Aizen asked, watching him through kind eyes, a hint of a smile on his face. His reiatsu twisted in the air, the accompanying scent of ozone at odds with his expression. “Is that really what you want?”

Grimmjow, stared wide-eyed at Aizen, grasping for the frazzled edges of his mind.

“N-No, Aizen-sama, no. I don’t want to stop,” Grimmjow stated. No. No he wanted this. He wanted Aizen to continue, to help him better himself for his creator. But... things didn't make sense. He didn't understand why he was trying to hide from Aizen (where was his pride?) even though all he yearned for was his creator’s touch. This was his punishment? It didn’t feel like one. 

Grimmjow watched him, eyes wide and naively ernest as his indecision faded; he never could hide his thoughts from Aizen. A moment passed. A beat.

Aizen loosened his grip and allowed his face to relax, flickering through a few subtle emotions for Grimmjow to latch onto. Relief and smothered delight, before smoothing back over into relaxed poise. “Good hollow, maybe you can be taught.”

Grimmjow grimaced at the condescension, eyes darting to the side, but he didn’t make to rip free from Aizen’s hand. Good. He had clearly learned that that particular maneuver would end poorly for him.

Aizen tightened his grip slightly and Grimmjow relaxed his face, knowing it wouldn’t do to further encourage Aizen’s ever lurking wrath.

“Now, what do we say for my benevolence, Grimmjow?”

Grimmjow, careful not to project his feelings, forced his face to remain impassive. He hated this, though. Hated being on his knees in front of Aizen, hated not being able to fight his way out of this situation, hated being _scared_ of Aizen.

Reluctantly, he said “Thank you, Aizen-sama.” He swayed, eyes rolling and mouth opening in a quiet breath. 

Azien smirked. Training resumed.

“And how will you thank me?” Aizen considered simply taking him over the desk. Forcing Grimmjow to bare himself and take him dry, manipulating his toy’s sense of time until he couldn’t remember anything _but_ being fucked by his master. 

But that was such an energy intensive exercise, and Grimmjow’s mouth had been more than satisfying today, once it was full and silent that is. Additionally, his pet might even get off on being fucked, and that wasn’t a gift Aizen was prepared to grant to his pet at the moment.

Aizen lightly tugged Grimmjow’s head towards his crotch where his dick was still out and hard, pre-cum the only moisture on it since Grimmjow’s saliva had dried. 

Unconsciously, Grimmjow returned to his proper kneeling position, hands open on his spread thighs, conditioning engrained enough that he didn’t require the reminder. 

Grimmjow looked up at Aizen, fixated on the vision of his master. Aizen was his sole focus, and he couldn’t look away if he tried. He leaned forward, opened his mouth, and sucked Aizen down again. If he was confused as to why he succumbed so easily, why he was so willing to put himself back in such a subservient, humiliating, position, it was easily ignored in favor of pleasuring his master.

He swallowed all the way, pressing his nose against Aizen’s curls. That’s where Aizen wanted him last time. That’s where he would be. He held himself there while Aizen pet behind his ears and scratched at the ligament at the base of his neck. 

Grimmjow felt a little bubble of satisfaction expand inside of him at the near affectionate touches. He sucked and swallowed, choked himself on Aizen-sama’s cock, nose and forehead pressed into Aizen-sama’s pelvis. He didn’t want to displease his creator, wanted to be as good as possible, wanted to show that he could behave, could follow orders, that he could be useful in other ways too. He has other holes he could offer for Aizen’s service.

Grimmjow couldn’t think beyond Aizen. All he could hear was the wet sounds of his spit and drool being fucked back into his throat. All he could feel was Aizen-sama’s cock in his mouth, his master’s taste on his tongue. Aizen-sama’s reiatsu surrounded him, drowned him in his presence.

“Do you know, kitten, why I have to hurt you?” Aizen said after a while. Grimmjow was getting sloppier. Likely tiring from having his jaw stretched so, from holding his teeth so carefully away from the sensitive skin of Aizen’s dick. Aizen’s hands held the hollow’s head down when his pet attempted to free himself and provide an answer.

“Because you deserve it. Don’t you?”

Grimmjow watched him, a crease between his blue eyebrows indicative of his confusion, though he never stopped sucking obediently around his cock. Did he deserve his punishments? No. That didn’t sound right. Grimmjow was… He was… made for Aizen-sama. But why would that mean that he deserved to be hurt? It didn’t make sense. 

“I can see you thinking.” Aizen pressed a finger between Grimmjow’s brow, “You get a little mark right here. Haven’t I already told you that I do not want you to think? Grimmjow,” He chuckled, voice like velvet, hands reaching to gently cup his head, “You are _nothing_.“

Rebellion flickered behind Grimmjow’s eyes and Aizen tighten’s Kyoka Suigetsu’s control, twists it into a leash around his pet’s throat. A collar or a noose, depending not on what Grimmjow decided, but on what Aizen desired.

“You do not think,” Aizen murmured, slowly pressing Grimmjow’s head down, brown eyes boring into vulnerable blue, “You do not speak.” His reiatsu swirled, heavy and thick in the air, smothering Grimmjow under his will, “You exist only for my pleasure.” 

Grimmjow’s nose reached his hips. 

It was a beautiful sight. Grimmjow’s usually loud and insolent mouth stuffed completely full, lips stretched wide, hands lax and useless on his thighs. Aizen basked in the view until Grimmjow’s throat fluttered and his chest spasmed at the lack of air. He pulled Grimmjow off painfully slowly, even as his Espada struggled to suck in a breath around his cock, just to remind his pet who was in control. “Your worth exists only because my will exists. You are my pet. You will never be anything more.”

Grimmjow felt like he was in a haze. Mind clear and slow, Aizen’s words slipped past him like sand off a dune on a windy night. He should be angry. Furious, even. But the residual thrum of his emotions felt far away, stifled by Aizen all consuming power. That’s okay though, Aizen-sama only needed him to suck his cock. He didn’t need to think; he just had to trust in Aizen-sama. Aizen-sama knew what was best for him, he deserved to be at Aizen-sama’s mercy, deserved to accept whatever punishment Aizen-sama wanted to mete out. It’s just like his master says: he was only here because Aizen-sama wanted him. He didn’t have a purpose outside of Aizen-sama.

It was almost cute how susceptible Grimmjow was, Aizen mused, fucking into Grimmjow’s mouth. For all his impotence and faux resistance, Grimmjow crumbled the moment Aizen exerted himself even slightly. Though the moment the hypnosis faded, he was back to his usual disobedient and pugnacious self. Then again, where would the fun be if his pet was too responsive to his training? Creating someone just to break them truly was the best distraction.

Aizen smirked as he came, a quiet moan indicating his satisfaction.

Grimmjow choked. He’d been given permission to suck Aizen’s cock, not glut himself on Aizen’s cum. It spilled past his lips and dripped down onto his bare chest in sticky splatters, and even as Grimmjow followed his instructions, he knew Aizen was displeased. 

Aizen watched his pet make a mess of himself, still thrusting lightly into Grimmjow’s mouth as he rode out the final shuddering moments of his orgasm, before he pulled himself free from the warm hole. 

Grimmjow was sloppy and wet, tongue half out to let a pool of cum form in his mouth. Aizen smiled, amusement clear in his eyes as he dragged the still sensitive head of his dick across his pets mouth. He pulled away before Grimmjow could figure out how to best react. 

Aizen leaned forward and dragged a finger along his pets jaw and up to the corner of his mouth, scooping the cum onto his fingers then shoved them into his pet’s throat. He scraped his fingers across teeth and rubs them on the roof of his mouth, “Swallow.”

He cleaned the remaining cum off his fingers in Grimmjow’s hair before tucking himself back in and standing. He placed a hand on Grimmjow’s neck, pressing his thumb, feather-light, onto his pulse.

“You like the taste of my come, don’t you?” It was a rhetorical question. The way Gimmjow’s lashes fluttered over his hazy gaze and the way his untouched cock twitched through his hamaka was evidence enough. 

Still, Grimmjow moaned, “Yes, Aizen-sama.”

“Are you grateful, my pet?” 

“Yes, Aizen-sama.”

“Would you like to come?”

“ _Yes_ , Aizen-sama.”

Aizen was remorseless. “That is unfortunate. Grimmjow. If you come between now and when I make use of you next,” his hand tightend and this time it was a threat, “then the next time I will fuck you in front of your brothers and sisters. Perhaps I can even be convinced to share. I’m sure Nnoitra or Szayel would love a turn, hmm?”

Grimmjow stiffened, pupils blown wide. His hands jumped to clutch at Aizen’s wrist. Lips shaped the words Aizen knew Girmmjow would love to say. _No. Please no._ But no sound came out, voice stolen from him. Impudent mouth finally silenced. 

Aizen cut him off, nails biting into hierro. “Wouldn’t you enjoy that?”

Grimmjow had not been given permission to say ‘No’. He whimpered, eyes pleading. He couldn't resist. “Yes, Aizen-sama.”

“Good boy.” Aizen’s face was a mask of cruel contempt. 

How could Grimmjow forget. This was a punishment. 

“Stay.”

And then Aizen left him. On the floor. Cum in the back of his throat and still humiliatingly, viciously, hard.

And Grimmjow stayed. 


End file.
